


The Good Guys

by SomeoneYouDontKnow



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Multiple Alternate Universes, there are a couple scenes of someone punching someone else but they are not super graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 16:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13150710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeoneYouDontKnow/pseuds/SomeoneYouDontKnow
Summary: Even in different universes, Niall and Harry seem to always find their way back to each other.





	The Good Guys

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: 6 - "Could you be any louder?"
> 
> I like to describe this type of storyline as ‘the same situation, but what would happen if one thing changed’ (like alternate universes with one thing different about each of them. The thing that changed in this fic is what relationship Niall and Harry had with each other, which altered the outcome of that situation. That sounds a bit confusing right now, but I think it’ll be more clear after you read the story.
> 
> And, in case you’re wondering, the sections (according to narry’s relationship) go as follows: best friends, dislike of each other, and strangers).
> 
> (Also includes pretty obvious homophobia and homophobic slurs so only read if you’re comfortable.)

A blonde man sits alone at a bar. He is dressed in a pair of dark blue shorts and a white t-shirt, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The man cradles a beer in his right hand, taking occasional sips as he stares at his phone. He’s jittery; tapping his fingers incessantly against the wood bar-top and biting his lips until they turn red and sore. 

The bartender makes his way towards the man, keeping one eye on the rest of the room as he pours another drink, sliding it in front of the blonde.

“Waiting for someone, mate?” He asks, mouth tugging up at the corners when he notices the stranger startle.

“Uh, yeah,” the blonde answers, meeting the bartenders gaze for a few seconds before shifting his eyes back to his phone. “Thanks,” he adds, gesturing to the newly empty glass beside him.

The bartender raises an eyebrow and swipes the glass away.

“And who is keeping you waiting, blondie?”

“It’s Niall,” the blonde says, eyebrows furrowed as he gives the bartender a once-over, trying to figure out if he’s flirting. He’s short and skinny, and Niall can see the art museum he has crawling up his arms as he crosses them, looking more interested in the customers around him than talking to Niall. The blonde quickly disregards any ideas of flirting, and wonders absently why the bartender is even paying the loner guy in the corner any attention, when he has a full bar of more friendly patrons to talk to.

Niall also notices the small name tag pinned to the bartender’s shirt. It says  _ Louis,  _ and Niall raises his eyebrows at it. The man, Louis, notices and rolls his eyes good-naturedly, mouthing  _ my boss makes us wear them _ , before he walks away, serving a couple shots to two blonde girls sitting a couple seats down from Niall. 

The blonde notices another group, this time of five or six forty-something men, who are blatantly leering at the two girls. One of them even whistles, smirking with his gleaming white teeth when the girls glare. 

Niall opens his mouth, building up the courage to tell the guys to fuck off, when he notices Louis beat him to it. The bartender shows the girls to a booth on the other side of the room, and gives the group of guys a few heated words that Niall can’t hear. 

Louis wanders his way back to Niall’s side of the bar, shrugging off Niall’s questioning look. 

“Weren’t you about to tell me about whoever stood you up?” He questions, shifting his focus to Niall once again. Niall studies him for a moment, watching closely as the bartender runs a hand through his light-brown hair, not taking his eyes off of the group of men on the other side of the room.

“It’s my friend, Harry,” Niall finally says, wanting to remove the worried expression from the bartender’s, Louis’, face. He doesn’t look like he’s heard what Niall’s said, so the blonde adds, a bit louder, “he’s got this huge exam today, and he was supposed to be done like two hours ago, and he won’t reply to my texts-”

“So you’re worried about him?” Louis surprises Niall with the question.

“Well, yeah.” Niall curses himself when he stutters through the words. “It’s not like him to disappear like this.”

“Your boyfriend know you’re here?” The bartender asks.

“Uh.” Niall can feel heat rising up his neck, and ignores Louis’ knowing look. “I said Harry’s my friend.”

“Could’a fooled me.”

Louis moves away to serve other customers before Niall can respond, leaving Niall with his thoughts that linger on his green-eyed best friend. Harry and him had met when they were eleven years old, and Harry’s parents had just gotten divorced. Harry was just recently dealing with his broken home, while Niall had lived in one for years, so it was an easy fit. Their parents often expressed concern about Niall and Harry’s relationship throughout their school years, because the two boys were so stuck together at all times.

At one point, when they were sixteen, Niall’s father had forbade them for seeing each other, for he feared that Niall was so busy with Harry, he didn’t have time for the girlfriends he was convinced 

Niall needed to have.

One night, after a week of hidden phone calls and sneaking away during lunch break at school to hang out, Harry had finally made the decision to sneak into Niall’s room. The blonde was sleepy-eyed and annoyed when he had to open the window for his friend, but had relented easily as Harry reached for a hug immediately after coming into the room. 

They laid down on Niall’s too-small bed, curled close enough to breathe the same air, but just far enough away not to touch. Niall studied Harry in the dark, hoping the other was too tired to notice him staring.

“My mom says we’re too codependent,” Harry said suddenly, the sound making Niall jump.

“She’s not really wrong,” the blonde answered, awkwardly shrugging under the cover of the duvet. 

“She keeps asking if we’re dating,” Harry continued, as if Niall had never spoken. The blonde went silent at the implication, and the layer of tension that covered the room was obvious. Niall rolled until his back faced Harry, feeling a low-level panic start to curl at the bottom of his stomach.

Harry reached out and poked the blonde. “Hey, Niall, I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m gay, Harry,” Niall whispered, terrified, and choking on his own words.

The confession silenced Harry’s meager attempts at apologizing. He laid there, shocked still, as Niall started to tremble beside him. Harry reached his hand to his friend’s shoulder in comfort. “That’s okay,” Harry said quietly, wincing when Niall flinched away from his hand.

“Oh fuck off, Haz.” Niall’s voice was tired and scratchy, and he felt like he was about to cry. He didn’t know what he would do if he ever lost Harry as a friend, and the silence was a good enough of an answer in Niall’s mind.

“No really,” Harry insisted, scooting closer to the blonde. Niall could practically hear the gears turning in his friend’s mind. He tried to push down the tears threatening to take over, but they came uncontrollably fast; washing down his cheeks before he could wipe them away. 

Harry must have heard his quiet sniffles, because he came even closer, close enough to Niall’s back the blonde could feel his breath on his neck. 

“I like guys too,” Harry whispered softly, “like that, I mean.”

The words shocked Niall enough to render him speechless for half a moment, before he quickly rolled around to face Harry. “You’re gay?” He questioned in wonder.

Harry, wide-eyed and staring at Niall’s blotchy, tear-filled face, said a simple, “I like girls too.”

Niall nodded, sniffing. “Okay.”

“I don’t really like labels,” Harry admitted quickly, nervous. He hadn’t quite known what the phrase actually meant, but he had liked the sound of it.

“Okay,” Niall said again. Harry took the moment to reach up and wipe the remaining tears sliding down Niall’s cheeks onto his sleeve. 

“Thank you,” Niall said, meaning much more than just Harry cleaning his face.

Harry smiled.

Niall thinks he’s been in love with Harry for years, but he doesn’t  _ really _ like to think about it very often.

“We were supposed to meet here together after his test,” Niall admits once Louis returns, eyes still trained on his phone.

“Doesn’t seem like a very nice friend if he’s blowing you off like this.”

“Wow, I didn’t know I needed life advice from a bartender,” Niall snipes, wincing slightly when Louis lets out a chuckle.

“I guess I deserved that one. But, to be fair, giving out life advice is half the job,” Louis says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he’s interrupted by one of the men on the other side of the bar calling out to him.

“I’d like a beer, if you actually want to do your job!” The man yells, his friends cackling behind him. Louis clenches his hands into fists, and Niall watches as he takes a couple of deep breaths before walking back over to the men.

Niall jumps when his phone chimes suddenly. A relieved smile settles onto his mouth when he notices the message is from Harry, but he quickly schools his face when Louis walks back towards him. The bartender is pissed, cheeks just barely tinged an angry pink, face scrunched up in frustration. 

“Nice guys?” 

Louis huffs an angry laugh. “Yeah, they’re fucking assholes, but they’re pretty wealthy regulars, so you gotta’ keep ‘em happy, you know?” He says self-deprecatingly, like he’s more mad at himself for dealing with the men than the actual people themselves.

Niall laughs despite this, a loud chuckle that gets Louis to lift his lips just a touch. Unfortunately, one of the men sitting on the other side of the bar decides to try to mimic the sounds, cackling a high-pitched laugh that sounds little like Niall’s. The rest of the group laughs at the parody, and Niall notices Louis send them an unseen glare. Niall ducks his head in embarrassment, warmth rising on his neck.

“Ignore them,” Louis suggests, though he keeps a trained eye on the group himself.

“They sure aren’t the best of customers, are they?” Niall questions after a moment, ignoring Louis’ advice and instead sneaking glances  at the men. They are all clothed in dress pants and button-up shirts variously coloured, hair once styled drooping in greasy waves over their foreheads, tossed back when they catcall to another group of girls who enter the bar. Noticing this, Louis stands straight to tell the men off again, but the women turn around and leave before he can get the words out. 

“Not the best for business either,” Niall comments bitterly. He finds his jaw aching from where he has been clenching it so forcefully.

Louis’ face hardens once again at the words, like he’s remembering something. “Yeah, don’t know why the hell we even let sleazebags like that in. They’re they type of guys who say homophobic slurs in every other sentence ‘cause it’s easier than actually making an interesting insult.” He trails off, leaning on the bar, closer to Niall so he can drop his voice. “They also like to hit on some of the underage girls who hang around outside of the bar. The perverts like to get handsy sometimes, but they never do it inside so I’m not allowed to do anything.”

“But you still do,” Niall guesses, the feral look on Louis’ face telling him it’s true.

“Not everyday you get to punch a pedophile in his fucking jaw,” Louis confirms anyway, eyes shifting around the room cautiously. “Gotta’ make sure I got my hood up though. Don’t want any of them to see me and jump me when I’m walking back from work.”

“That’s real shitty, you know that?” Niall doesn’t mean the way Louis has reacted to the situation, but rather why he has to, but the bartender seems to understand.

“Yeah, I know,” he agrees, shrugging, “but someone’s gotta’ do it.”

_ But no one should have to, _ Niall thinks to himself, frowning hard at the bartender’s words. 

Louis notices Niall’s agitated expression. “Will it make you feel better if you know those guys have been coming here for years and every night they leave here alone? No one wants to touch them with a ten foot pole. Hell, me socking them in the face would have to be the most action they’ve had in a decade.”

Niall finds himself grinning uncontrollably, giggling at the exaggerated disgusted expression Louis puts on. The other half of the bar seems to go quiet, and Niall’s heart drops before they say anything, predicting the crude words  before they’re said.

And, like  clockwork , the apparent leader spit out, “shut this faggot up, will you Louis?”

The bartender moves away from Niall, leaning on the bar a few feet away from him, like he’s trying to block the groups  harsh smirks and sharp words directed to the blonde. “I told you not to say shit like that in my bar, Ray.”

The man, Ray, snorts a laugh like he couldn’t give a shit what Louis says, and turns back to his friends.

“Your bar?” Niall blurts out, smiling sheepishly at his eagerness when Louis spins back around towards the blonde.

“My dad’s,” Louis answers, “I told you, I’ve been dealing with these guys for years. Been a long seven years too.”

Niall cackles, and Louis beams at the sound.

“Can you be any louder?” The same man from before, Ray, snarls in Niall’s direction. “Fucking queers, man.”

Niall flinches at the words.

“Jesus Christ, Ray,” Louis spits out. “What the fuck did I just say? Take it the fuck outside if you’re gonna’ be like this all night.”

But either Ray is more drunk than they noticed before, or the man is just itching for a fight, because he saunters over until he’s standing right beside Niall, plopping himself down in the seat next to the blonde. He leans in close, arm settled on the back of Niall’s chair, ugly sneer curved onto his chapped lips as shoves his face right next to Niall’s, enough that he can smell the alcohol on the strangers breath. Niall makes to move away from Ray, leaving his seat, when the man grabs his arm in a vice-like grip, yanking the blonde back into the stool and keeping him there, nails digging into his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, grinning almost maniacally. Niall feels bolts of fear shooting through his body, tugging uselessly at his own arm to get away from the man. “I’ll take this little bitch outside.”

“You’re not going to fucking touch him,” a voice suddenly chimes in, deep and familiar and menacing in a way that chills Niall to the bone. He doesn’t look up in fear of pissing one of the men off, and tries to hunch his shoulders so he looks smaller, inching away from Ray’s grip. In the back of his mind, he wonders where Louis is, but the thought rolls away almost immediately when the man at his side begins to speak. 

“What, you his boyfriend or something?” Ray says, though he sounds distinctly less confident than he did before. “Get out of the fucking way.” 

Suddenly, Niall feels a light shove to his back, and distantly hears a gasp as he is pushed chest-first into the bar in front of him. He turns his head to the side just in time to see a fist swing down to connect with Ray’s jaw. 

A gasp rips it way from Niall’s throat, and he just manages to dodge out of the way as Ray goes head-first into the lip of the bar. Niall stumbles over the bar stools, trying to scramble away from the violent scene in front of him, when two big hands grasp his upper arms.

The blonde wheezes, thinking that it is one of Ray’s cronies attempting to finish off what the other man started, and Niall tries to once again fight off unwelcome hands on him. He gets a good elbow in to the person’s stomach, and winds up his leg to break his attacker’s knee, when he is swiveled around to face the man.

“Harry?” Niall exclaims, face forming into an blatant vision of shock as he stares at the brunette in front of him. Harry stares back, wincing at Niall’s expression. 

Something over Niall’s shoulder takes Harry’s attention, and before Niall can turn to look as well Harry is pulling him away from the scene. They weave in between the people in the bar, fighting through the two different crowds: one following them out, and one pushing closer, wanting to take a look at the fight.

It then suddenly occurs to Niall that Harry  _ punched Ray in the face. _ Harry, the boy Niall’s known for years, who’s never been in a fight or even really raised his voice at anyone, just punched a guy in the face, for Niall.

_ Do you get time for fighting in public? _ Niall thinks, immediately panicked.  _ Could Ray charge Harry with assault? Could Harry go to jail for protecting me when I should have been able to protect myself? _

Niall remembers Harry once saying he wanted to  _ good guy _ . Niall had asked what his friend had meant, and Harry had just shrugged and said that he wanted  _ to help people, to be a good person that stands up for people when they need it and respects everyone equally.  _ The blonde wonders, sometimes, if Harry remembers ever saying that, and if he still has the same wish.

They barely squeeze through the door before Niall goes into a full panic, panting harshly as he grips Harry’s t-shirt for dear life. Harry leads them to a dark alley beside the bar, taking a half-step away from Niall once they’re alone. He looks at the blonde carefully, rubbing at the Niall’s arms when he sees the cracks of fear breaking through Niall’s shaky exterior. Niall pulls him closer instead, burying his face in Harry’s neck when his friend is close enough, shivering as he presses his forehead against Harry’s cool skin.

“What the fuck just happened?” Niall whispers, lips brushing Harry’s collarbone. Harry slides his arms around Niall’s middle and pulls him even closer, until Niall feels like every part of his body is touching Harry’s; surrounded by him.

Harry nuzzles his nose into the dip of Niall’s temple. “That guy was fucking threatening you.”

Fingers tightening around Harry’s shirt, Niall says, “Harry, you just punched someone in the face.”

“I was defending your honour,” Harry jokes, his words highlighted by the unsteady laugh he lets out. 

Niall scoffs, pulling away just enough to face his friend. “You could’ve gotten hurt,” he deadpans. “That guy could’ve hand a knife or something.” An earlier thought occurs to Niall. “You could get in trouble with the cops.

Niall pushes Harry’s curls away from his forehead, a mix between fond and frustration curving his lips into a grimace. Harry catches the blond’s hand, placing it on his own cheek and covering with his fingers. Feeling the warmth beneath his palm, Niall notices a flush rise to his own cheeks.

Sirens wail and Niall lets out a gasp as he sees two cop cars pull up, two men stepping out from each of the vehicles. They bypass the alley completely, entering the bar. Niall and Harry are frozen still, waiting silently for the other shoe to drop. Astoundingly, the police drag Ray from inside the bar not a minute later, his cronies in tow. The latter are sent off in the other direction, far away from the bar, and Ray is shoved into one of the cop cars. The police drive off quickly after that, and Harry and Niall are left, gaping, in the dark alleyway.

The blonde turns to look at Harry once again. “What the hell…”

Harry shakes off the shock quickly. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt you, anyway” Harry admits, responding to Niall’s earlier comment, and smiling softly. He leans into their hands, turning his face to plant a kiss on Niall’s palm.

Niall’s breath catches in his throat, and he freezes, watching as Harry slowly twists his questioning gaze back to the blonde. Niall finds his eyes trailing down the soft features on Harry’s face until they settle pointedly on his pink lips.

Harry shifts closer, hesitant as he glances up into Niall’s eyes. They stand still, just a couple of inches away from each other, when Harry’s eyes flicker up, and he takes a instinctual step back. Niall feels himself go cold, from Harry’s lack of body heat near him and the quick panic he saw skim through Harry’s eyes. Dropping his hand to his side, Niall hangs his head, blinking back the wetness that has gathered in the corners of his eyes, assumed rejection cold in the pit of his stomach. He’s about to apologize, wants to try to salvage the best friendship he’s ever had, when he notices movement out of the corner of his eye.

Louis stands in the mouth of the alleyway, half-smile climbing his cheeks. Niall feels his face flush once he turns back to Harry. The brunette is carrying an apologetic look, and Niall half-smiles sheepishly; realizing that Harry had moved away so they wouldn’t be seen by Louis. Harry smiles back, and hope once again stirs in Niall’s chest.

“I hoped you two had gotten away quick enough not to be involved in that,” Louis says, startling Niall out of his thoughts. He looks back to the bar owner, noticing his tense shoulders and grimacing at the tired way Louis carries himself.

“What happened with the cops?” Niall asks timidly, voice cracking at the mention of the police. 

“Nothing,” Louis sighs. He glances between Harry and the blonde. “Just dragged the scumbags out and left.”

Niall’s eyebrows twist together until he’s frowning in confusion.  _ The cops weren’t looking for us? Don’t we need to be questioned? _

Unfortunately, Harry decides to break into the conversation at that point. “So you think they’ll be gone for a while then?” He asks Louis, taking a step forward until he’s standing next to Niall once again. The blonde shivers, and tries to convince himself it’s because of the wind.

“Yeah, and those dickbags won’t be allowed anywhere near my bar at all, I’ll tell you that,” Louis huffs. “And I have you two to thank for it. Feel free to come by whenever you guys are around; first couple ‘a drinks will be on the house.”

“Only the first couple?” Harry speaks before Niall can get a word in, and the blonde can hear the wide smile in Harry’s voice.

“Encourages you to buy more once your tipsy.” Louis winks, turning to go back into the bar. 

“Louis,” Niall says loudly, a small guilt-filled blush hinting at the high points in his face, “you really don’t have to do something like that for-”

“No, I really do,” Louis interjects firmly, expression softening when he sees the self-reproach blatant on Niall’s face. “What your friend did in there is something I should of done a long time ago.  _ Thank you _ .”

He stresses the words, making sure he meets both Harry and Niall’s eyes. The fight seems to deflate from the blonde, and he relaxes his face into a half-smile. Louis meets it, and they grin, wordlessly, until another thought pops into Niall’s mind.

“What about the police?” He asks suddenly, looking at Louis in question.

“Told ‘em they were harassing you and went to hit you, so Harry was just acting in your defense,” Louis says in confirmation.

“They bought that?” Harry asks incredulously. Niall jumps at his voice, so used to having the familiar warmth beside him he almost forgot Harry was there.

“I’ve known Liam, their head officer, for a while now, and got you guys off the hook for any interviews. Don’t tell anyone that by the way; Liam’s a bit of a goody-goody-”

“Upholding the law and all,” Harry jokes.

“-and he freak out a bit if he knew that his less-than formal police work was being spread between some people.” Louis grins at the thought.

“Of course. We won’t say a word; keep his honour and all that.” Harry smiles, and it’s wide and happy and full of teeth and Niall has to fight his eyes to look away.

“Yeah okay, Hamlet.” Louis rolls his eyes fondly. Someone yells something from inside the bar, and a chorus of drunk screams follows the noise. Louis turns to follow the sounds, but whips around one last time to say, “also, don’t be too worried about those guys coming after you or anything. Apparently the cops know a thing or two about them, so it wasn’t a big stretch for them to believe they were edging for a fight. Hopefully with the fines and jail time they won’t be coming around this part of town any time soon.” He slips back into the bar.

“That was definitely enough excitement for one night,” Harry observes, jostling Niall with an elbow to the shoulder. 

Niall rolls his eyes, stating, “that was the bravest thing someone has ever done for me.” It comes out more genuine than he means it to, and Harry turns towards him with a raised eyebrow.

“Not a bad thing, then?” Harry bites his bottom lip, glancing down at Niall’s good-natured scowl. Niall feels his heart start to pick up speed, and he tries to hold his frown in place in lue of a ecstatic grin taking over.

“Shut up Harry.”

Niall feels an abnormal amount of bravery then, grabbing Harry’s t-shirt and pulling the still-grinning brunette into a kiss. They both stiffen, if for only a second, and then Harry wraps his arms around Niall’s waist and pulls the blonde even closer.

 

-

 

A blonde man sits alone at a bar. A brunette by the name of Harry watches on from a table by himself, lips bent into a frown. 

He tries to ignore the brutal bullying the blonde is going through, though it is hard to miss. The group of men have been yelling insults at him since he walked in fifteen minutes ago, rainbow sweater worn as proudly as the grin on his face. 

Harry had recognized him almost immediately. Niall Horan, who had known who he was and, especially, who he was attracted to, when he was fifteen years old. He had walked into Harry’s class, easily confident in a white t-shirt with a rainbow printed boldly on the front. Harry thinks that that was the real reason for his instant dislike of the kid: his comfort in his own skin, and how Harry and his completely not-straight self couldn’t figure out a way to be comfortable until much later in life. 

The dislike between them had continued, even after Harry had gotten over his denial stage. Niall (though Harry would never admit it to him) was a very smart guy, and Harry was trying to get into a top university at the time. So, naturally, they would be, more often than not, fighting each other for the top mark in their classes. It didn’t bode well for a friendly relationship.

At least, this is what Harry tries to tell himself as he watches the blonde curl more and more into himself as the insults get louder and meaner. The bartender looks uncomfortable and annoyed, but he says nothing as the words continue to rain down. Harry wonders what made the man so afraid to stand up to the bullies.

_ And what made you so scared to do the same?  _ Harry’s mind betrays him, whispering the words like a taunt in his head. 

After that, it doesn’t take much for Harry to raise himself off of his chair. The one man, who looks to be some sort of leader of the group, has almost cornered Niall into the bar, and Harry’s decided he’s sick of sitting and watching, like everyone else in the bar seems to be comfortable doing.

He’s just about to Niall, close enough to reach out and touch the man blocking the blonde from Harry’s view, when the stranger brings one of his hands up - quicker than a man with his level of intoxication should be able to accomplish - and strikes it down hard. Harry doesn’t see the punch, but he hears the softer sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then the louder noise of Niall stumbling back, his breath sounding like it was torn from his throat. The next sound comes from the patrons around Harry. They’re gasping and yelling, moving closer to Niall, like it’s suddenly their responsibility to break up the fight and help the blonde. 

But all of the noise fades out quickly, and Harry can’t hear anything anymore; his head filled with what sounds like rushing water. He feels like he’s moving in slow motion, as he walks forward, spinning the man around and punching him in the face, before he has any time to react. Harry doesn’t feel the pain shoot through his hand, nor does he see the man fall against the bar, dazed. Instead, he looks for Niall.

The blonde is slouched against one of the barstools, a look crossed between dazed and frightened on his face. Harry grimaces, knowing he has to act fast, if the quickly building chaos around him is anything to go by. He grabs Niall by the armpits and lifts him up into a standing position, checking the blonde for any further injuries, besides the rapidly swelling red mark on his cheek. When he doesn’t find any, Harry pulls the bewildered-looking blonde through the large crowd of people, aiming for the exit.

He can already see someone on the phone, and he doesn’t imagine it’ll be long before the cops show up. The thought makes Harry unsettled, but, surprisingly, he doesn’t feel an inch of regret in his entire body. He helped someone, he helped  _ Niall _ , of all people, and Harry thinks that that is worth the possible fine he’ll get for fighting someone in public.

Harry drags Niall out to the alley beside the bar.  Niall pushes Harry’s hands away as soon as they’re a safe distance from the bar, taking a small step back from the brunette. They stand in silence, and Harry tries to look anywhere but Niall’s questioning gaze.

“You...punched him.” Niall’s inspecting Harry like he’s trying to read his mind. Harry shrugs self-consciously.

“Yeah.”

“But…” Niall trails off, frowning. “I thought you hated me.”

“You were in trouble,” Harry says simply, like it is a easy as that.

“Yeah.”

“Just because we didn’t like each other as kids, doesn’t mean I want to see you get beat up by that group of homophobes in there.”

Niall studies Harry for a moment, looking for any deception in Harry’s face. Harry notices, and tries to keep his face open and welcoming; trying not to seem deceitful in his words.

The blonde seems to like what he’s found in Harry’s features, because his thoughtful expression turns relaxed. “Thank you,” he says, reaching his arms out and pulling Harry into a hug. Harry, though he’s surprised, wraps his arms around Niall’s waist and pulls him close.

“Anytime,” Harry whispers in response, a shiver travelling up his spine, and a comforting warmth starting to fill in his stomach.

 

-

 

A brunette man sits alone at a bar. He watches, silent and curious as the bartender makes friends with the blonde a few seats down, their laughter filling up the already noisy room. The brunette smiles at the two, just as the blonde cackles once again, crooked teeth on full display, a gleeful flush building on his cheeks. 

The need to talk to the man hits Harry almost instantly, and the feeling makes him slide past a few stools along the bar before taking a seat beside the blonde. The stranger glances at him, quizzical smile gracing his lips as he sees Harry. Harry smiles back.

“Thought may need another drink,” Harry says, gesturing to the empty glass in front of him. The blonde tilts his head and looks down at his drink.

“Nah, I think I’ll just get a water instead,” he says. Harry feels his face heat at the implied rejection, and laughs a little self-deprecatingly. He barely notices as the bartender slinks off, too caught up in trying to hide his embarrassed blush.

“Alright, yeah. Sorry for bothering you.” Harry takes the hint, leaving his seat and turning away to sulk at the other end of the bar, when he hears the blonde start to speak.

“Just because I don’t want somethin’ to drink doesn’t mean I want you to leave.”

Harry turns around sharply, attempting to school his features into an expression that doesn’t read blatant surprise. The stranger smiles at Harry’s obvious failure at hiding his emotions, and pats the barstool next to him. Harry takes a seat.

“I’m Niall,” the blonde says, once Harry’s seated again. 

“Harry.”

“Nice to meet you Harry.” Niall smiles politely.

“And you as well,” Harry replies, and winces internally at the formal words. There’s an uncomfortable pause; a moment where Harry is tapping his fingers on the bar nervously, watching Niall out of the side of his vision as the blonde looks like he’s gathering the courage to say something.

As it turns out, he was. And Harry sits silently as Niall stutters through an awkward pick-up line. “And how is someone as pretty as you all alone in a bar on a Friday night?”

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” Harry laugh a little incredulously; bewildered at how weirdly the conversation with this cute man has turned.

Niall thinks about Harry’s words for a moment, and it’s then that Harry notices the dark-red flush climbing his already pink-tinged cheeks. “Thought I’d change up the script a little bit, I guess,” he says, shrugging in a obviously nervous way, though he tries to play it off as nonchalant.

“Wouldn’t want it to get boring.” Harry nods.

“No, we wouldn’t.”

They look at each other for a second, and Harry snorts a surprised laugh uncontrollably. Niall follows suit quickly enough. It doesn’t take long for the two of them to be gasping in laughter, and Harry feels a bit of the weight on his shoulders release.

Niall’s still wheezing in breaths when he says, “it’s good to know that I’m not the only one who’s shit at flirting, then.”

Harry pokes Niall shoulder, giggling. “Hey!” He exclaims, smile wide and happy. “I take offence to that!”

Niall snorts. “You would.” 

Harry gasps in mock-offence, whining another, “hey!

This sets off another round of cackling laughter from Niall, and Harry grins at the sound. 

He’s still basking in the thought of the handsome man laughing at his joke when he hears a yell from the other side of the bar.

“Could you be any louder?” Gruffs a man with a black suit and unwashed dirty-blonde hair. His friends around him all laugh loudly, and he smiles, white teeth on full display. “Some people here are trying to have a good time. We don’t need you to be screaming over there with your boyfriend.” The cronies laugh once again, and turn back towards their ‘leader’.

Harry fully expects Niall to say something, anything, if only to argue that Harry and him aren’t together. But the blonde ignores the men; ducking his head down instead.

“Fucking terrible people, they are,” Niall comments quietly, scrunching his eyebrows together. It’s the first time Harry has seen him without a smile, and the expression looks wrong, somehow.

Harry notices the bartender walking back over to them, blue eyes rolling in annoyance. He stops in front of Niall and says in a comically loud whisper, “maybe you should go over there and knock some sense into them, Niall.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Not that type of person, Louis.”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll get curls over here to deal with them for you.” The bartender, Louis, nods towards Harry.

“They’re bothering you?” Harry asks, but Niall shakes his head and ignores the question.

“C’mon Louis…”

“What?” The brunette exclaims, throwing his bare arms into the air. “What would your parents say if they knew you were letting these guys beat on you like this?” He points a finger at Niall.

The blonde swats his hand away. “My dad would tell me I’d need to deal with  _ my own _ problems. Not let other people try and fight my battles for me,” he says pointedly, though his tone is laced with bitterness.

Harry thinks about that statement for a half-second, annoyance at Louis’ sudden appearance quickly replaced by empathy for Niall. He knows what it’s like to have parents like that; Harry dealt with it his entire life, and it took a long time for him to learn to take everything his father said to him with a grain of salt. He wonders if the annoyance in Niall’s voice is because he’s learned not to listen to his overbearing father, or if he’s just starting to realize it now.

“I don’t know, I think I’d punch a guy in the face for someone like you,” Harry admits softly. Louis whistles out a laugh and winks at Niall, walking away from the two men to serve a group of customers on the opposite side of the bar.

“Someone like me?” Niall furrows his brows. “That’s a bit of a weird thing to say, mate.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Harry laughs at the silence that follows. Niall looks like he’s thinking of something important, like he wants to say something meaningful, but he can’t find the words.

Harry takes the lull in the conversation as a time to study Niall’s soft features. The stranger (though Harry would be hesitant to call Niall that now) is intriguing to Harry in ways he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before. He’s odd and he laughs too loud sometimes and he doesn’t stand up for himself, but he’s also kind. And his smile fills a room, and he’s unashamed of who he is, even though he would rather not cause conflict with someone who disagrees. 

And, also, his eyes, and the curve of his face, and his small pink lips, and the way he keeps looking at Harry out of the corner of his eyes to make sure he’s still there. They all make Harry’s chest feel warm and tight.

Harry wouldn’t call himself observant on the best of days, but there’s something about Niall that makes him want to pay more attention.

“I don’t think I’d mind you standing up for me,” the blonde finally says. He nods to himself, staring down at the half-empty glass of water in his hands.

“Oh really?” Harry asks, grinning at Niall’s unexpected, but not surprising, shyness. 

“Yeah,” Niall shrugs. “I know people like you.”

Harry can’t help but think that that is also a weird thing to say. “ Oh yeah? And who are people like me?”

Niall looks thoughtful, rosy-cheeked smile making Harry’s breath catch in his chest. 

“You’re the good guys.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! My tumblr is narry-is-the-winning-team if you want to follow me there. :)


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